Distance Destroys the Heart
by Pallet and Cerulean
Summary: "For a moment, the line was quiet, Honoka's breathing a faint sound like static. 'Yuta' Honoka started, her voice sounding hesitant and shaky, something he hardly recognized. His heart stammered at the sound, concern stubbornly tightening his chest. He was so used to her confident, assured tone. 'I... I almost did something really awful.'"


It was late when the buzz of his phone woke Yuta. Sitting up, he reached for his phone, blinking blearily at the screen. It was still summer, so he doubted any of the other Kiznaivers would be calling him, but he didn't know who else it would be. All the girls that crowded around him at school wouldn't call him this late and there really wasn't anyone else. Squinting against the bright light, Yuta made out the characters, reading Honoka's name. Worry coiled in his chest, knowing she would be the last one to call him unless there really was something wrong. Honoka was too sensible to break their agreement to avoid each other for the summer without a good reason. Nervously, he flipped open the phone, only for the ringing to stop before he could accept the call.

Letting out a breath, Yuta slumped back down in bed. For a moment, he debated calling Honoka back, but he didn't want to push her. If she really needed something, she would call again or leave a message. Maybe he would text her in the morning if he hadn't heard from her, just to check in. Or maybe it would be better just to leave her alone, like they had agreed. Pushing the tangled thoughts away, Yuta set his phone back on the nightstand beside his bed, rolling over.

He had almost fallen asleep, the late hour, or early rather, and dark room quickly lulling him back to sleep when his phone gave a single beep. Rolling over once more, Yuta plucked the phone from the table, finding a missed call and voicemail notification glaring back at him, bright on the screen. Clicking on the voicemail, he figured it would be best to listen to it, rather than putting it off until morning.

For a moment, the line was quiet, Honoka's breathing a faint sound like static. "Yuta?" Honoka started, her voice sounding hesitant and shaky, something he hardly recognized. His heart stammered at the sound, concern stubbornly tightening his chest. He was so used to her confident, assured tone.

"I... I almost did something really awful," she continued, a strained sort of control forced into her voice. "I was walking over the bridge and-" Over the line, Yuta could hear her swallow and take in a breath, like she was trying to hold herself together. "I couldn't stop thinking that it seemed so easy to just jump over the edge and it would all be over."

Cold fear clawed its way up his throat at her words. Suddenly, he felt like he couldn't breathe, like a knife was plunged into his chest. If anything happened to Honoka... Yuta didn't even want to think about it.

"I need help," Honoka said, the sound growing tight and panicked. There was a forced, shaky exhale, the brunette trying to calm herself down.

The words broke Yuta's heart. Even before, Honoka had a nasty self-depreciating streak, convincing herself she was worthless, that she didn't care if she broke. Now, though, she seemed so lost and scared, asking for help. It killed him to keep listening, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know what she had to say.

"For so long, everything hurt. I was always trying to push down the pain, but now everything is just numb," she said quietly. "I'm scared," Honoka murmured, voice breaking.

Dragging himself up from bed, the phone still pressed to his ear, Yuta shuffled through his drawers for a clean shirt and a pair of pants. Her pain was tearing at his heart, and not through their Kiznaiver link. He couldn't bear it. Struggling to keep the phone in place, he yanked off his pajamas and replaced them with the clothes he had pulled out.

"I know we all agreed we'd stay away from each other," she continued after a moment, having regained just a little of her composure, "but I don't trust myself right now."

Quickly slipping out of his room, Yuta paced down the hall and hurriedly stepped into a pair of shoes. With a quiet creak, the door swung open and he stepped outside, letting it fall silently shut behind him. Still, fear and pain and sympathy all tangled in his chest.

"I know I'm a horrible person, you said it yourself," Honoka said with a slight, humorless laugh. Regret and anger flooded over Yuta, hating himself for what he had said. At the time, he had meant it, and she had agreed with him. But that was before he got to see her true heart, glittering like gold beneath all of the walls she so desperately built up.

"But, I really need your help right now," she said with a strained sigh.

"So please, don't give up on me," Honoka breathed, her voice wavering before the voicemail ended with a soft click.

Now alone with his thoughts, Yuta let his phone fall from his ear, staring at the screen while he walked the empty, moonlit streets. The tiny numbers at the top corner read 1:42 and, for a moment, he wondered if Honoka would even still be awake by the time he got to her apartment, or want to see him if she was. One thought back to her voicemail, though, the way her voice shook and broke, flooded with desperate emotion, and he was pulling up his messages. Yuta quickly typed out a text and hit send without another thought, trying to ignore the way his heart throbbed painfully at the memory.

1:42 pm.

Yuta Tsuguhito: I'm coming over.

After a beat, he closed his phone and stuffed it in his pocket, quickening his pace. Luckily, Honoka's apartment wasn't too far from his own, so even without the trains running, it wouldn't take him too long to get there. A few moments later, a buzz from his pocket jolted him out of his silent musings. Opening his messages once again, Yuta let his eyes skim the text with cautious optimism.

1:46 pm.

Maki Honoka: The door's unlocked.

Maki Honoka: My room is at the end of the hall.

When Yuta came to Honoka's apartment, his hand froze on the doorknob, the metal cold and smooth beneath his fingers. After he had gotten her voicemail, adrenaline and worry had rushed over him, turning all his thoughts to assuring Honoka was alright. Now that he was standing outside her door, though, his nerves prickled slightly with uneasiness. He had no idea what he was getting into, no idea how to help Honoka. It was all uncharted ground for him, yet so familiar at the same time. He had never dealt with a girl who thought herself as worthless as Honoka, though he had the same thoughts about himself, back before he had worked so hard to change his image.

Shaking the thoughts away, knowing hesitancy would do him no good, Yuta opened the door and stepped inside. With quick, quiet movements, he slipped off his shoes and headed straight to Honoka's room. Steeling his nerves, Yuta slipped into her room, shutting the door silently behind him.

The room was dim, moonlight filtering in through a window and casting a pale light over everything. Turning his gaze to find Honoka, sitting up against the headboard of her bed, his heart knotted worriedly at the sight. Her cheeks were tracked with tears, moisture glistening on her fair skin in the low light. Her eyes looked glassy and were rimmed with red behind her glasses, the frames knocked slightly askew. Hair slipped from her normally neat braid, falling around her face. Letting her gaze find his, Honoka blinked back at him with a sort of strained apathy, hurting and numb all at once.

Unsure, Yuta crossed her room, perching on the edge of Honoka's bed. "Are you okay?" He asked, though he already knew she wasn't. It still seemed like he right thing to say, breaking the thick, tense silence that was threatening to drown him.

Giving a gentle shake of her head, Honoka let a bitter smile tug at her lips, ever so slightly. "I'm a mess," she muttered, reaching up to straighten her glasses. "I feel a little better now, though," Honoka added, seeing the pained sympathy that flashed across Yuta's face. She sniffed quietly, letting her hands fall back to her lap.

"I'm sorry we all left you," Yuta replied gingerly. At the time, splitting everyone apart seemed like the best thing to do, separating all the messy, complicated feelings that were causing everyone so much pain. What he didn't realize, though, was that sometimes being alone only left the wounds to fester and rot. Well intentioned or not, he had abandoned Honoka, only realizing when it was nearly too late.

Honoka shook her head. "We all agreed to it," she said quietly, hands knotting together. "I should have known better, though. I'm always destroying myself," Honoka added, a bitterness slipping into her tone. She always had the habit of trapping herself in her own head, thoughts growing darker and cutting like knives.

Once again, a heavy silence filled the room. Thoughts turning back to Honoka's voicemail, Yuta almost hated to bring it up, but he knew he wouldn't feel comfortable until he did. "About your call-" Yuta started, but he cut himself off as soon as he did, seeing the way Honoka tensed, going still.

Immediately, he was stumbling to apologize, any of his usual confidence swallowed up by fear and concern. It wasn't until he felt cool fingers slip between his that he stopped his worried rambling, eyes searching Honoka's face. A ghost of a smile pulled up at her lips, though tears welled in her eyes. For the first time that night, he saw something in her expression that wasn't strained, ambivalent apathy. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a bit of relief washing over him. Tugging at his hand, keeping their fingers laced together, Honoka pulled Yuta back until he was sitting beside her.

Honoka's gaze shifted down to their entwined hands. When was the last time she had actually touched someone else? She couldn't remember. She didn't realize how strongly she had been craving human contact. The comfort of Yuta's hand, warm and solid in hers, sent tears spilling down her cheeks. She was so used to living life alone, detached and distant, she couldn't even remember how good it felt to let someone else in.

"Honoka?" Yuta asked worriedly, his voice breaking her from her thoughts. His eyes caught hers, so kind and genuine that it hurt, the pad of his thumb brushing away her tears. Taking in lurching breaths, Honoka tried to slow the tears that dripped down her cheeks. She didn't even know why she was crying anymore. Her feelings just flooded out, the walls around her heart cracking and falling. Years of pent up emotion came crashing down on her with nothing more than the touch of his hand.

"I'm okay," she murmured through the tears, attempting to soothe the fear that marred his features. She wasn't sure how true the statement was, but it didn't really matter. She just needed him to stop looking so worried. "You were the one who kept me from jumping," Honoka added quietly, the truth spilling out before she could stop herself.

Yuta's fingers tightened slightly around hers. "Please don't ever do something like that," he whispered gently. "I don't think I could stand losing you," he said, voice thick with emotion.

Offering a slow nod, Honoka brought her free hand up to wipe away the tears that still clung to her skin. She sniffed quietly, trying to regain a little composure. More than anything, more than any pain or comfort or apathy, Honoka realized just how tired she was. The whole Kiznaiver mess, and the situation with Ruru before that, had been draining her for too long. Afraid of getting hurt, she had locked herself up in her room, only leaving when she had to. Loneliness had eaten away at her heart, desperately craving someone to talk to, to sit with. It was hard to feel so much.

"Thanks for coming," Honoka whispered quietly, genuine gratefulness and affection filling her voice. She let her head fall to rest on Yuta's shoulder, allowing her guard to drop for just a moment.

"I'll always come, whenever you need me," Yuta soothed gently, noticing the way the tension drained from Honoka's body. She hummed in acknowledgement, eyes falling shut.

Yuta didn't say anything more, keeping quiet while he let go of Honoka's hand, only to slip his arm around her waist. Gently, not wanting to disturb her, he pulled her just a little bit closer. He had no idea when the last time was that she'd truly gotten any restful sleep. From the way she slumped against him, breathing already starting to slow and deepen, Yuta had to guess that it had been a very long time. As soon as she let the fatigue and exhaustion in, Honoka was drifting off, tucked warm and safe against his side.

After only a few quiet moments, Honoka was asleep, her glasses slipped forward on her nose while her head rested against his shoulder. While Yuta was tired too, emotionally drained as well as exhausted from the sleep he had lost, he wouldn't let himself fall asleep. Instead, he just wanted to watch over Honoka, to make sure she was safe and secure and that darkness didn't creep into the shadows of her dreams. He could sleep in the morning, but for now, watching Honoka's peaceful expression was enough for him.


End file.
